Yesterlife
by Apophenia
Summary: An accident takes Harry back before the founder's time to a world of war and conquest, his memories lost. Upon returning to his time, Harry does not remember himself as Harry Potter, but as Lord Slytherin.
1. Prologue

AN: Hmm. First story. And it's two in the morning. Wow. Well, as I said, this is my first story I've written, please be gentle for I am a writing virgin, and this will probably be painful. This story has been knocking at my brain for some time, and I do hope I continue with it. Reviews always help! _hint hint_

Disclaimer: I own nothing of Harry Potter &co. I only like to borrow them for short periods of time, just to torture, manipulate, and bend them to my will, but they never belong to me and always return to the owner relatively unharmed, maybe a little worse for wear, but always intact . . . most of the time.

_**Yesterlife**_

**Prologue**

The lamp in the corner of the room flickered on and off continuously, having not decided which way it would prefer to be. The storm outside was raging, and the power lines that ran up and down Privet Drive were about to fall prey to the storm's fury. The light flickered, and then died as quickly as it had been born from the bulb. He was left in total darkness.

The darkness embraced him as a mother would her child, it soothed his woes and eased his fears. This was his safe haven, the one place where everything wrong could be made right for a little while. It was where he could pretend that the pain was not real, that reality was all a dream, and that the nightmares were all his imagination. In the dark, nobody could see the bruises, the cuts, or the blood. It was impossible to see the tears. The blackness hid him from prying eyes and granted him precious moments of peace.

But as it is said, all good things must come to an end, and peace is fleeting in this house. Harry Potter grimaced as he slowly uncurled from his fetal position. His body screamed in defiance at the exertion. He sighed in exhaustion once he had completely straightened and relaxed his aching muscles. He opened his eyes and peered into the darkness, his sanctuary, and did the only thing he could do to pass the time. He thought.

He could see small dots and different color in the darkness. Harry remembered from primary school that everything in the world was made of little things called atoms. He had often wondered if that was what he saw. He had never mentioned them to any of his friend for fear of sounding crazy, but once he thought about it, the world was made of magic, so why couldn't atoms be magic themselves? Maybe it just took a witch or wizard to see them, but the wizarding world was so far behind the times, maybe they didn't know about the tiny particles called atoms.

Harry sighed and tried to think of something else less confusing. But really, that's all he had to do these days, think. It wasn't like he could do his summer homework, his wrist was broken, and he couldn't do the mountain load of chores he was usually assigned in the summer. No, all he had to do was think, and it certainly got boring after awhile. Harry shifted his head a little more unto the pillow, he was starting to get a headache.

A sudden boom of thunder made Harry jump, and he immediately regretted the action. "Oww," he groaned into his pillow. He really did love thunderstorms, but sometimes the thunder had it's drawbacks. One of Harry's favorite things to do was sit and watch a thunder storm. It positively fascinated him. He could sit and watch the rain and lightening dance in the sky for hours, and never for a moment feel bored.

Unfortunately for Harry, watching the lightning and rain meant that he had to be at the window, which meant moving, and what with his condition, it would prove most challenging and quite painful to attempt such a feat. So he stayed put and contented himself with listening to the rain beat against his window and, of course, thinking.

It was odd, Harry thought as he looked at the old wrist watch of Dudley's that lit up, that Vernon wasn't home yet. Not that Harry wanted to see the man anytime soon, or ever really, but Vernon usually got home around supper time, and that was at six. It was about eight thirty now. Harry felt slightly guilty for hoping that maybe Vernon had some sort of an accident and wouldn't be coming home, but then quashed that feeling when he realized that it was his uncle that he was feeling sorry for, and he had better people to feel sorry for, like perhaps himself.

The summer had started out pretty much the same as ever other had, besides the fact that the only family member that actually cared for him had been murdered, and the man he had looked up to as a sort of grandfather had betrayed his trust. Yes, life as usual for the Boy Who Lived. It just got harder and harder every year.

Unbidden, a picture of Sirius floated to the top of his consciousness. Harry squeezed his eyes, trying to dispel the image and keep the tears at bay. He had thought of everything else but his godfather since that night. He couldn't bear to face the situation, even in his mind, because he knew that if he admitted that Sirius was truly gone forever, and given the current circumstances, he would not be able to stop himself from giving up completely.

However there was a nasty little voice in the back of his head that kept telling him he deserved all that his uncle did to him, and it seemed that no matter how much he argued with it, the accusations would become louder each day and his protests feebler. He couldn't decide if it was Voldemort or just himself telling him of his worthlessness. Unfortunately, Harry didn't think he could blame Voldemort for this one.

So it was better to deal with one thing at a time, and right now Harry was happily residing in a lovely little state of mind called denial, and he had no intention of leaving it, thank you very much. As depressing as it sounded, Harry just hoped he made it back to school in one piece. There were ways to cover up signs of abuse, potions to help heal the broken bones, and Harry needed Hogwart's library to help him.

Dumbledore had already written to Harry a few days ago, telling him that he would remain at Privet Drive for the rest of the summer, which on one hand Harry was relieved that no one would discover him the way he was without a chance of hiding his ailments, but on the other hand, he felt just as hopeless and angry that they would abandon him. But then again, Harry figured it was for the best. He really didn't want anybody to know what his uncle did to him.

Harry guessed it was a pride thing. He knew that he was only human, and that it was near impossible for him to stand up to a 350lb muggle without his wand, but he didn't want to be perceived as a weak child. The Order already thought that. They didn't need anymore evidence to support their claim though.

Harry pushed the button of the watch again and the greenish light came on. It was almost nine. Vernon should be home any minute. He was already late by three hours. Harry dreaded to think what could have kept Vernon out so long. Dozens of scenarios flashed through Harry's mind. Yesterday Vernon had come home two hours late, drunker than an Irish sailor. The experience hadn't been pleasant. That was when he had taken Dudley's old cricket bat (Dudley never made the team for obvious reasons) and had broken Harry's wrist. Harry shivered slightly. That particular beating had hurt badly.

Vernon had been angry as of late because a younger employee had gotten the promotion at work that Vernon had been eyeing for some time. Well, of course this was all Harry's fault, and Vernon made damn sure Harry knew this, so three days ago Vernon came home, in a drunken rage, and promptly beats down the door to his room, takes his belt off, and proceeded to thoroughly pummel his "freak" of a nephew. The same thing had happened the next day, and then yesterday was when he had broken Harry's wrist.

Some hero I've turned out to be, mused Harry, I can't even _attempt_ to defend myself against a muggle. Granted, I don't have my wand and he's over 200 pounds larger, but aren't I supposed to have some great power to defeat the worst Dark Lord the world has seen in centuries? Where's that fabled power when you need it?

And that brought up another thing that Harry had plenty of time to think about. One of the first things that came to mind when he thought about the prophecy was, "Oh shit, we're doomed." But of course, this wasn't a very positive outlook, so he contented himself with pondering on what power he could possibly have that Voldemort wouldn't know about. Hell, he was with Voldemort on this. _He _didn't have an inkling of a clue either.

Harry sighed quietly and turned slowly onto his side. He should really be thinking of something a little less depressing, but nothing would come to mind. Suddenly, Harry remembered one of those songs that likes to play over and over in your head. Awfully annoying as they were, he decided it was better than thinking of his and the world's impending doom. Although, Harry decided to change the lyrics up a bit.

"_Home, home with the deranged. Where I'm treated like I have got the mange. Where seldom is seen, more food than a single bean, and Dudley just gets fatter everyday. Oh. . _." Harry continued muttering bitterly under his breath. Yes, home with the deranged indeed, but this was more fun than he'd had in a long time, which was not saying much, so he continued to sing the song quietly to himself.

The slamming of the front door stopped Harry mid sentence. He felt his body stiffen in fear, and he immediately brought his knees to his chest, ignoring the spasms of pain that shot through his body as he did so. He silently prayed to whichever gods that listened that he would live to see tomorrow as he heard his uncle's angry footsteps coming up the stairs.

His chest tightened in fear, and his breath came in short gasps. He squeezed his eyes shut, tears streaming silently down his face. He could feel the anger of his uncle as he heard the heavy steps stop outside his door. A small sob escaped his lips before he quieted. His uncle was unlatching the first lock.

_Click. _That was the second.

Harry buried his face into his pillow.

_Click. _That was the third.

Harry begged the gods to send a savior.

_Clump. _There's the dead bolt, only one more to go.

Harry screamed in his mind for Sirius to save him.

_Shhhhhttt. _There's the chain. The door is unlocked.

Harry froze.

The door war gently pushed open, with a loud, groaning creak that chilled Harry to his very bones. But since the electricity was out, Harry could see a thing, but he knew there was someone in his room, he could hear the heavy breathing.

A terrible boom of thunder didn't make Harry flinch in the least, he was frozen in fear at the thing that had crept into his sanctuary, the vile creature that masqueraded as human by day and demon by night. A flash of lightening lit up the room for brief seconds, and Harry spied the boogeyman from his nightmares.

With an enraged roar, Harry heard the huge man rush at the bed on which he laid. And suddenly, the darkness wasn't the sanctuary that it had once been.

AN: Well, that's it. Drop a line and tell me what you think of the story. All opinions are welcome of course. Expect an update maybe sometime this weekend. I'm going to try to make the chapters a lot longer, but keep in mind that this is the prologue. Ciao.


	2. Muddy Ruddy Luck

A/N: Hey people! Wow, I didn't think I'd get such a response for my first story. I'm so happy. Usually I see people with only four or five reviews, but I got nine! Thank you all so much for reviewing. I mentioned everyone down in the author notes at the bottom. Keep the reviews coming, they inspire me to write faster.

Disclaimer: I own nothing of Harry Potter &co. I only like to borrow them for short periods of time, just to torture, manipulate, and bend them to my will, but they never belong to me and always return to the owner relatively unharmed, maybe a little worse for wear, but always intact . . . most of the time.

_**Yesterlife**_

**Chapter One**

_The door war gently pushed open, with a loud, groaning creak that chilled Harry to his very bones. But since the electricity was out, Harry couldn't see a thing, but he knew there was someone in his room, he could hear the heavy breathing._

_A terrible boom of thunder didn't make Harry flinch in the least, he was frozen in fear at the thing that had crept into his sanctuary, the vile creature that masqueraded as human by day and demon by night. A flash of lightening lit up the room for brief seconds, and Harry spied the boogeyman from his nightmares._

_With an enraged roar, Harry heard the huge man rush at the bed on which he laid. And suddenly, the darkness wasn't the sanctuary that it had once been._

Harry squeezed his eyes shut, waiting with bated breath for the first blow, but amazingly enough, it didn't come. He strained his ears, trying to hear the sound of movement. He could barely make out the sound of soft breathing against the sound of the rain pounding against his window and nothing more.

Suddenly, the lamp in the corner flickered back to life. The electricity had returned, even though the storm was still in full swing.

Hesitantly, Harry squinted up at his would be attacker, blinking his eyes against the sudden intrusion of the light. His uncle stood stock-still above him, his fist balled and poised to strike, a crazed snarl marring his face. It only took a few moments to realize that his uncle had been petrified, and Harry was sure that he hadn't been the one to do it.

Minutes passed, and no Order members popped up, and neither did any Death Eaters show. Although, Harry reasoned with himself, Death Eaters more than likely wouldn't have stopped his uncle in the first place, so no worries there. Then Harry remembered something. When he was younger, he was always prone to small bouts of accidental magic when he was feeling an extreme amount of emotion, in this case fear. If he had accidentally apparated to the top of his primary school roof when he was being chased by Dudley and his gang, then he certainly well hoped he could petrify his lunatic of an uncle. Harry would have smacked himself had he not been so relieved at his realization.

Harry heaved a great sigh of relief. He was safe for the time being, but for who knows how long? Harry needed to find away to stay safe, and Harry could only think of one way. He would have to leave Privet Drive, take the Knight Bus to Grimmauld Place, and make up an excuse for the injuries, or either make Dumbledore swear on everything he holds dear not to tell a soul what that whale of a muggle had done to him.

Harry groaned as he sat up in his bed. He didn't want to face the Inquisition, but he still had some self preservation instincts, and right now they were screaming at him to get the hell out of there as fast as he could hobble, pride or not.

Harry heaved himself off the bed with a grunt, and limped slightly to the bathroom across the hall. He was thankful that his aunt had gone to bed already, and Dudley had gone to spend the weekend with a friend, no doubt drinking and vandalizing the neighborhood playgrounds.

Harry opened the medicine cabinet and grabbed a bottle of Tylenol. He struggled with the cap for a few minutes. "Damn child safety precautions," Harry grumbled to himself. Dudley could get the things off when he was only seven. He had been rushed to the emergency room when he had opened a bottle of cherry flavored medicine, thinking it was candy. They had to pump his stomach. Harry smiled slightly. He did have some good memories of life with the Dursleys.

Finally getting the cap off, he gently tapped two caplets out. He popped them into his mouth, and then stuck it under the faucet, not having a cup and having no desire to venture downstairs to get one. Thank Merlin for Tylenol. He pushed the bottle down into his baggy blue jeans pocket, which of course were too big and had to be tied with twine. He would need that bottle later.

Harry continued to rummage through the medicine cabinet, and to his utter joy he found the wrap that Dudley had used for his sprained ankle two summers ago. Stupid whale thought he could jump.

Wrapping his wrist up carefully, Harry applied the metal catches that kept the wrap in place. He hobbled back into his bedroom, grabbed his wand and invisibility cloak, and shooting one last wary glance at his prone uncle, he struggled down the stairs and to the front door.

He hoped that someone from the Order was on duty. That way he wouldn't have to worry about causing a stir on the Knight Bus. Harry stumbled slightly and caught himself with the door handle. Unlocking the door, he cracked it, fully intending to step out and close it behind him, when suddenly he heard about a dozen cracks, the telltale sound signifying apparation, however, Harry was sure that the wards Dumbledore had erected was supposed to keep people from apparating in.

Closing the door hastily and locking it, Harry stepped back from the door as quickly as he could manage, his heart pounding in his chest, the fear that had crippled him only a brief time ago was coming back full force. He hurried into the living room, and peaked out of the corner of the curtains.

"Bloody hell, I can't believe it. This could only happen to me," whispered Harry furiously to himself. What were the bloody chances of this happening now?

Twelve Death Eaters were out on his front lawn in the pouring rain, and it appeared that one was giving instruction to the others. The leader, by all appearances (even though they all looked the same), was gesturing wildly, and then he suddenly pointed at the house. Harry could barely make out the nods of agreement from the other Death Eaters through the pouring rain. Fear coursed through his blood, and Harry felt an overwhelming panic seize him.

He was in no condition to hold his own against a group of Death Eaters, and there was no way for him to contact the Order. He had sent Hedwig away earlier that week with one of his letters to the Order, and with the storm raging, she must have been delayed. He backed away from the window quickly, almost falling over the coffee table as he did so. He needed to find a place, any place to hide and now!

Frantically, his eyes searched for a hiding place, and suddenly they fell upon his prison for the first decade of his life. It didn't seem like such a horrible place now. Disregarding his injuries, Harry made a mad dash to the cupboard, swinging it open, and falling into the black prison of his childhood. He slammed the cupboard door shut, and tried to calm himself by breathing in deeply, although it didn't seem to be working. He hit his back against his trunk and winced.

Remembering his invisibility cloak, opened the trunk and he draped the cloak around himself, scooting into the far corner of the cupboard, and pulling his knees up to his chest. A burning sensation started at the back of his eyes, and Harry hastily wiped the forming tears away. He'd be damned if he started to cry. He buried his head in his knees. The Dursley's had never been very religious, and by defect, neither was Harry, but right now Harry was praying with all his might to whomever was up there to save him. It was the only thing he could do.

His heart beat seemed much louder than just seconds ago. He heard the Death Eaters trying the door handle, but Harry had locked it. A soft whispered _alohamora _reached Harry's ears, and the door creaked slowly open and then was shut. Harry suppressed a whimper of fear when he heard the many foot steps and the whispered voices. He was afraid that his heart would be too loud for him to hear what the Death Eaters would say, but his fears were soon unfounded.

"Crabbe! Goyle! That Figg woman said she was the only one on guard tonight. Go outside and keep watch just in case. We don't need any of those muggle loving dogs interfering!"

Harry heard the unmistakable grunts of acquiesce from Crabbe and Goyle Sr. and the front door opening and closing again. He pushed himself farther into the corner. If the Death Eaters had visited Mrs. Figg, then that mean that more in likely she wasn't alive anymore. Harry felt a wave of grief wash over him at the thought of his old babysitter's death. Who would take care of her cats?

"Avery! Nott! Check upstairs! Bring everyone in the house back downstairs for a little fun. Just don't hurt the Potter boy too much. Our Lord wants the joy of breaking the boy himself. The rest of you, stay with me."

"Right," said one of the two men going upstairs. Harry thought it might have been Nott, but he wasn't sure. He cringed as dust fell from the stairs and the two men made their way up. Harry could only imagine what "a little fun" was. Probably extended time under the Cruciatus curse. No matter how horribly the Dursley's had treated him, Harry had no desire to hear them being tortured and not being able to stop it.

Then Harry heard a voice, one that had haunted his nightmares and sent both overwhelming anger and fear coursing through his body.

"Our Lord won't mind if we play with the brat just a little. I've been so looking forward to making the boy scream," said the voice of Bellatrix Lestrange.

"Of course he won't Bellatrix. Just so long as the boy isn't driven into insanity, I see no problem with torturing him," said the silky voice of Malfoy Sr. Harry shivered. Malfoy must have been sprung from Azkaban.

Harry suddenly heard the sound of screaming. It was his Aunt Petunia. Harry felt the bottom of his stomach drop. He may not be particularly fond of his aunt, or fond at all, but he didn't want anyone to be hurt by Voldemort's henchmen. The shouting suddenly stopped when one of the Death Eaters from upstairs shouted, "_Silencio!_" It was silent once more.

Harry drew the cloak around himself tighter. What would the Death Eaters do when they realized he wasn't upstairs? Would they leave? He hoped they would. All he needed was a chance to get out of the house. He needed to get to Grimmauld Place by any means possible. Suddenly, there was a startled shout of surprise from upstairs. They apparently had found that he was missing.

"The Potter boy isn't here!" shouted one of the men as they both came hurriedly down the stairs.

"What do you mean he isn't here?" Malfoy shouted in anger and confusion. Harry heard an outraged cry of Bellatrix and the angry murmurs of the other Death Eaters.

"All we could find was the boy's aunt and uncle. His uncle was petrified in what appeared to be Potter's room. The muggle looked like he was in the middle of attacking something. It could have been the Potter boy."

The murmuring of the Death Eaters got louder. "SILENCE!" shouted Malfoy. The noise stopped immediately.

Malfoy cursed. "If the boy has used magic then the Ministry will be down on our heads within minutes!"

Harry hoped they would be here in minutes, but he wouldn't hold his breath. He wasn't sure if bursts of accidental magic would be easily picked up.

"Avery! I want you to kill the boy's relatives and then apparate back to headquarters! Wormtail! Return to our Lord and inform him of what has happened. The rest of you, out to the lawn! Start setting fire to the house! I want the fire charmed! It shouldn't be easy to extinguish! Bellatrix, cast the Dark Mark over the house! I want everyone to be out of here in under five minutes, now move!" shouted Malfoy.

The Death Eaters filtered out of the house, Avery heading upstairs. Harry peaked out of the venting on the cupboard door, and seeing no one, he quickly rushed out of the cupboard and as quietly as possible, ran to the backdoor in the kitchen, wincing as he put weight on his injured leg. Making sure that his cloak was still covering him, he opened the door and rushed out into the backyard. It was still raining, and the water seeped in through the cloak.

He scrambled through the bushes separating the Dursley's yard and the neighbors, remembering all the times he had done so in the past. However, Harry was running from a different gang altogether, even though they had the same goals: Put Potter in as much pain as possible.

He could hear the Death Eaters shouting spells from the Dursley's front lawn, and the smell of firer was teasing his nose. Suddenly a huge sickly green skull appeared in the sky over the now burning house. Harry continued to run, mindless of his injured leg, tripped, and found himself face down in a puddle of mud. He slammed his fist down, spraying mud on the impact. This was just not his night. With a heave of breath, he lifted himself up and continued his desparate escape.

He went though two more neighbor's yards before deciding it was probably safe to get to the sidewalk, and it would be easier to run on the sidewalk than in the muddied yards. He needed to get around the corner to safely call the Knight Bus. He hobbled painfully to the corner. It would be hard to miss the triple decker purple bus even if he was at least twelve houses away. Not seeing the raised crack in the sidewalk, Harry tripped and landed painfully against the pavement, his cloak slipping upwards and revealing his legs. Suddenly, he heard a high pitched, cruel laughter directly behind him.

"Well well well, look who I found. Why, it's wittle Potty out for a midnight stroll. Imagine how curious I was when I saw a pair of muddied footprints walking down the sidewalk. I'm so glad I let curiosity get the best of me. Look at who it led me to."

Harry was so overcome with panic that he tried to run, but his legs got caught in his cloak, and he fell back to the ground, and rolled unto his back, trying to see her. Cold laughter rang in his ears. Breathing hard from his exertion, he squinted his eyes. The rain splattered on his glasses, and the blurry image of Bellatrix Lestrange stood over him. He could just make out the insane grin upon her face.

"Poor little boy, can't even run properly. The Dark Lord will be pleased with me. I've caught him his prize. He shall honor me above all others once I bring you to him. But first, little boys need to be taught not to run from their fates! _CRUCIO!"_

Thousands of white hot knives pieced every inch of his skin. Liquid acid flowed through his blood, burning him inside out. Every nerve in his body was afire, his bones felt as if they were melting. He screams reverberated through the streets, mingling in with the sound of the rain pounding against the pavement.

And then as suddenly as it had started, it stopped, and all that Harry could feel was the lingering echo of that great pain, and the rain beating mercilessly against his body. Bellatrix laughed gleefully, and kicked him in the stomach, repeatedly, all the while shouting about his dead parents and bastard godfather among other such insults.

Harry started coughing up blood. Bellatrix stopped to laugh at this. "Poor child. Mummy and Daddy aren't here to save you now, and that sorry excuse of a Black that was your godfather is dead by my hand. It's time to meet your destiny Potter. You've been running from it for sixteen years, but it's finally caught up hasn't it!"

She gave him one more sharp kick to the stomach, and then hauled him up by his arm. In his hazy state, he was amazed that Bellatrix was strong enough to pick up his dead weight, because he certainly wasn't making an effort to get up.

"Say goodbye to the outside world Potter. It's the last time you'll ever be seeing it."

Harry felt a pulling on his navel, and he felt sick. Bellatrix had a portkey, and it didn't take a genius to figure out where she was taking him.

A/N: Well, there's the next chapter. Sorry it wasn't as long as I though it was going to be. I had meant to make it longer, but I decided that I'm rather fond to cliffhangers. At least when I write them. Anywho, I'd like to thank everyone who reviewed once again! Expect another update either tomorrow if I have time or early next week. Drop a line and tell me what you think. Ciao!

Thanks to: **Scottish Wish **yea, I do have that problem. Thanks for your compliments! **Niger Wolf Rector: **It's right after fifth year, so he'd be just about to turn fifteen. **Chiara Crawford: **Thanks! **LoonyLivesOn: **Thanks! **Virgina Riddle-Malfoy: **Doesn't look like he'll be saved anytime soon, sorry! **Moongypsie04: **Well thanks! **Rosie girl: **Thanks! Yep, spelling isn't my strong suit. **The Magic Bringer: **Thanks! Love your story too! **kagomepotter: **Thanks! I love your name! And I love Inuyasha!


	3. The Common Commodity

**A/N: **Alright. Suffice to say I'm a bit late with the updating. Had quite a few things happen recently. Baby brother was born, school exams came, summer started, summer job sucked up my free time, a friend of the family's died, my step-mother quit her job, and my Grandmother was being her _lovely _**:sneers: **self as usual, and her dog has bone cancer. Poor Ralphie. I'll try to be more punctual, but I'm sure you know how life just gets in the way.

**_Last Time_**

"_Say goodbye to the outside world Potter. It's the last time you'll ever be seeing it."_

_Harry felt a pulling on his navel, and he felt sick. Bellatrix had a portkey, and it didn't take a genius to figure out where she was taking him. _

_**Yesterlife**_

**Chapter Two**

The dungeon cell was everything he expected it to be. There were chains and manacles adorning the stone walls and stains of blood splattered here and there. The hard stone flagons underneath him were wet, and the nauseating smell of mold permeated throughout the small room.

An annoying drip drop of water grated on his ears and muffled screams of other prisoners could be heard through the thick wooden door. Moonlight filtered in through the bars up above, and, of course, there was an unexplainable draft. It was typical fashion for a dungeon cell really.

Harry pushed himself to his knees with his uninjured hand. Amazingly his glasses were still intact and residing on his face.

"Thank Merlin for small blessings," he grunted. As expected, Harry could find neither his wand nor his cloak, but amazingly the bottle of Tylenol was still in his pocket. If everything went as expected, he would definitely need this later.

Harry groaned when he thought of where he was again. He didn't see anyway out of this one. He limped to the un-moldy-est corner of the cell and gently sat himself down.

He sure hurt like hell. He was sore and tired, and he was definitely afraid, but even more than that, he was angry. How could he have let himself be caught like that? He was so bloody stupid. Muddy footprints on the pavement? If Harry wasn't afraid of permanent damage he would be banging his head against the blood stained stone walls right now.

And while he was already insulting his meager ration of common sense, how could he have allowed his uncle to do that to him? Even if he realized there was nothing he could have done, he was still angry at himself for not thinking of a way to escape that situation sooner. What had made him so susceptable to his uncle's abuse? Sure, there had been the occasional backhand now and again, but why had it escalated? And what would have happened if he hadn't been able to stop his uncle?

Harry shuddered with disgust. There were only so many other pains that his uncle could have infflicted upon him. He didn't even want to entertain the thought of his uncle . . . Harry shook that thought away hastily. No, he had better things to think of. Harry desparately searched his mind for something less gruesome, and his thoughts drifted to his friends. In retrospect, he couldn't tell if it was any better or not.

They had been distant in their letters lately. It was just pleasantries and such nowadays. Superficial stuff about school and the odd Quidditch game. Was it the Order that had stunted their friendship? Or was it just that they were growing up and growing apart. Although, he had noticed that the farther away he became, the closer Ron and Hermione seemed to grow. Not much was said between him and them on the ride home. Harry had still been moody, and his mind was still from the inner turmoil of grief. But for Ron and Hermione, they got along like hippogriffs and dead ferrets.

He was losing touch with them, he knew.. He had soon just given up trying to send letter. It was probably for the best, he reasoned. They had suffered enough because of Voldemort, and with Harry's friendship came Voldemort's hostility, but that didn't make losing their friendship any less painful.

Harry eased himself unto his back and stared at the moon up above. Would the Order even know he had been kidnaped? Harry snorted to himself. Probably wouldn't realize he was gone for at least another couple of days. Apparently the security around his house was a bit shoddy. But then again, it was kind of hard not to notice a flaming hell hole with a huge skull above it. The ministry would be called, and then the Order would find out.

Harry smiled bitterly. He almost, no he really wanted the Order to panic. Dumbledore would no doubt be nursing kittens. His poor little weapon had been spirited away right under his overly large crooked nose, and Harry half way hoped he wouldn't return.

Death didn't seem so bad nowadays. Besides, he was really curious about what would happen to him when he died. Maybe that was why the old saying was 'Curiosity killed the cat'. But then again, he could escape from this place. It wouldn't be the first time he had slipped from Voldemort's clutches, but escape routes were none too forth coming.

He knew it was a long shot, but if Harry ever escaped this place, he wanted to leave the wizarding world for good. He had come to dislike this world more and more as the years passed. This world had such fickle people. One moment they praised you to the high heavens, and the next they damned you to the lowest of hells. Not to mention the population as a whole seemed terribly dull.

"I mean this is bloody ridiculous. How do these people think a nearly sixteen year old wizard with average powers is going to defeat one of the most powerful Dark Lords the world has seen in centuries?" Harry growled to himself.

It was absolutely ridiculous. There were thousands of light wizards in England, many more in Scotland, and tens of thousands all over the world. Each and every one, minus too young and too old, could fight against Voldemort and outnumber him and his small following 10 to 1. If only the Brittish Ministry were intelligent enough to form alliances with other wizarding countries. Then the allied wizards could put a stop to Voldemort and his band of petty thugs once and for all.

The Death Eater's reputation proceeded them. By leaps and bounds. It was their reputation for being all powerful that froze many wizards in their tracks, and them being too afraid to defend themselves fell prey to Death Eaters with average or below powers. Just look at Wormtail, Crabbe, and Goyle. Seriously, the spells cast by Death Eaters are predictable and easy to cast by anyone of average power and emotional problems. Wizards may have magic, but the muggles got all the intelligence.

Harry swore to himself that if he ever got out of here he would leave. The Wizarding world created this problem, not him. Let them deal with the byproduct of their narrow-minded society. He had nothing to do with it. This war was the death of his family, but it wouldn't be of him. He just happened to have survived, and he wanted to continue doing so.

However, before he left there was something he had always daydreamed about, usually in Divination. He really wanted to get a gun and shoot Voldemort right between those freaky red eyes of his, just for shits and giggles. He wondered if it would work.

"It just seems so simple," Harry chuckled to himself. The power the Dark Lord knows not. The power of muggle arms! Harry couldn't help it, despite the pain, despite the fear, despite the hopelessness of surviving this place, he laughed. Long and hard. And suddenly he felt better than he had in a long time.

It was at least a couple of hours since he had woken up that he heard from his captors. In the meantime, he knew that it took approximately eight hobbled steps from one wall to the other, and seven from the wall with the barred window to the door.

There was eighty-three drops of water per minute hitting the floor in the far right corner, and he found that he couldn't remember his multiplication tables all that well. He also found that pulling each hair from his head individually hurts worse than a handful.

In other words he was bored. So bored in fact, he was relieved when the Death Eaters finally showed. Of course, this relief was short lived when his scar bloomed into head splitting pain and fell down clutching his scar. He tried to keep from screaming, but painful gasps excaped from his throat.

It was then that the door opened to reveal the serpentine monster that had haunted his footsteps since birth. The room's torches lit as he entered. He gave a cruel, barking laugh when he saw Harry on the floor, clawing at his blooded head.

"Well well, who do we have here?" Voldemort kicked Harry unto his back, and then gestured to one of his Death Eaters beside him. The Death Eater preceded the kick Harry repeatedly. The pain in his scar and the physical pain inflicted upon him made Harry yell out. Voldemort laughed in delight.

"Why if it isn't the Boy-Who-Lived come to stay in my little playhouse. Having fun Potter?"

Pain, the common commodity. So common in fact, that demand was limited to a select few. Those who enjoyed giving it, and those who enjoyed recieving it. The former was rarer than the latter of course. Suddenly the pain, both of them, vanished leaving a heaving, bloody mess of a boy panting in pain.

Harry squinted his eyes. His vision was blurry even though he could see outline of the black frame of his glasses. He coughed, and drew back his hand to see specks of blood. He felt dizzy and distantly noted that this didn't seem to be a good indication of his health.

"Avery!" Voldemort gestured to Harry. The other Death Eater with Voldemort, there were only three, nodded and pulled a vial of some sort of potion from his inner robes. He stepped forward and presented it to his master on bended knee, offering it as one would offer homage to a god. Voldemort delicately picked the vile up my its neck, removing the cork as he did so. Avery, never his back turned and always a head lower than his master stepped back, bowing, into the line with the other Death Eaters.

Voldemort smiled maliciously. "Do you know what this potion is dear boy?" Harry made no move to answer. He was failing potions. He hardly knew anything about the subject, so he couldn't very well identify it now could he? And besides, the potion in that vile probably wasn't legal enough to be on Hogwart's curriculum.

"No? Well then I must tell you what a rare potion I have here. It takes months of careful brewing to produce even one batch and only a Potions Master would have the ability to brew this specific potion. I've been saving it just for this occasion."

Harry's heart started to beat faster, and a light, sick feeling settled itself in his stomach. He did not want to find out what that potion did. No doubt it would be very painful, and no doubt it had been brewed by a certain Potion's professor of his. He wondered if Snape even knew who that potion was going to be used on. Would he have still made it? Probably.

"I think I'll leave you guessing on what the potion does. Guessing is always have the fun. Nott! Restrain him! No need of any unnecessary spills."

Harry struggled, he really did, but with one well place charm he was bound by ropes to a newly conjured chair. He tried to say something, anything, but he just ended up hacking out more blood. Apparently something must be injured in him somewhere.

He felt a burning touch on his chin, and it lifted his head upwards. Voldemort's red eyes bore into his, and Harry felt a tickling sensation in the back of his mind. He immediately closed his eyes and tried to clear his mind of every thought pertaining the Order or the Prophecy. Instead he focused on the memories of his early childhood. Not overly the best subject to dwell on, but dwell he did none the less. Voldemort laughed and roughly pushed Harry's face away.

"Silly boy. That may work this time, but believe me, by the time my Death Eaters and I are through with you, you won't even have a mind anymore."

Harry glared with all his might, but it was probably a pretty pathetic sight anyhow. Voldemort grinned. "You know Harry, you and I aren't so different. We could be great if you joined me. We could conquer Britain and then the world!"

"I would never join my parent's murderer!" Harry spat. This vehement declaration did not seem to deter the Dark Lord in the least.

"Just imagine! You could have anything your heart desired!"

"My heart desires peace! It yearns for the innocent lives that you stole from this world! Can you give me those things Tom Riddle?"

Agitation flashed across the Dark Lord's face, but then settled into a grim smile. "But Harry, think about it. We could be great. We are both so powerful . . . so similar. Orphaned at such a young age, forced into the so-called care of vicious muggles, powerful, yes very powerful. Abused by the hands of the ones supposed to protect us from such things. . ." he trailed off.

Harry's eyes widened. How did Voldemort know that the. . . Did the Death Eaters tell him that . . . Vernon had never been so abusive until this summer. What if Voldemort had done something? What if his uncle had been under the Imperious curse?

"What do you mean? You put my uncle under the Imperious cuse, didn't you?" Harry wheezed.

Voldemort laughed. "Smart boy. But you are only partially correct. I had him put under a spell similar to the Imperious, but yet different. You see, your uncle did everything of his own free will, but the spell that was on him fostered all his hatred towards you and simply directed it to a more physical manifestation. It was the sheer loathing that you uncle possessed for you that brought about such extreme actions. I was mildly surprised to see just how much the man hated you."

"Well at least I was only abused because my uncle was under a spell. At least he wouldn't have done anything to me if otherwise. I wonder how much the people at the orphanage must have hated you then?"

Voldemort narrowed his eyes to slits. He raised his wand and hissed, "_CRUCIO!"_

White hot knives again assaulted his body. Liquid fire flowed through his veins. The pain was worse than when Bellatrix had cast it on him. He couldn't help but scream. Voldemort lifted the curse.

"Ah, sweet screams of agony. Music to soothe the soul. You should learn some respect boy."

Harry spat the blood in his mouth at Voldemort.

"What soul?" he wheezed sarcastically as he could.

"_CRUCIO!"_ Voldemort once again put Harry under the painful curse, this time longer than before, and Harry screamed louder than he thought he could. Then the pain was gone, but the echoes of that great pain still lingered and tingled throughout his body.

"Didn't your mudblood mother ever teach you when to hold your tongue boy? Oh, dear me, I just remembered I killed her as she begged for mercy!"

Harry growled. "Didn't your mother ever teach you how to play nice with the other children? Oh, I forgot, the bitch died bearing a muggle's bastard!"

Harry immediately regretted his words. He had never seen any man, even Voldemort, as livid as the serpentine man was before him. The paper white face gained a an angry flush, his red slitted eyes narrowed, and his nostrils (however small) flared. Harry noticed Voldemort's grip on his wand tightened. Even the Death Eaters took a couple of steps away from the Dark Lord who radiated anger and hate.

'Ohhhh Shit.'Harry thought as Voldemort raised his wand.

"_CRUCIO! MORSUS! ABSIDO! INIURIA! CRUCIO!"_

The curses came in quick succession, one after another. Pain beyond pain. Harry had never experienced the amount of pain he was feeling. It was worse than the Cruciatus curse. Ten times worse. It was everywhere. His skin was tearing, his blood was boiling, the knives were stabbing, his muscles spasmed and tore. And then blackness crept slowly around the edge of his vision, and he blacked out.

But this peace did not last long.

"_Ennervate,_" hissed the deadly voice of his enemy. Harry slowly came too. He was still tied to the conjured chair. Wounds, cuts, and blood littered his body. His head hurt and he couldn't quite make out what was going on or what had happened.

"Avery!" Voldemort handed the vile of potion to his Death Eater. "Make sure he swallows at least half. Save the other half for tomorrow."

"Yes my Lord," murmured Avery as he kissed his lord's hems of the robes he wore. Voldemort kicked the man away and stormed out of the door, barking order at the other two to stand guard.

"I believe I will enjoy this," said the Death Eater that Harry recognized now as Malfoy Sr.

"So will I," agreed Nott.

Avery said nothing as he forced Harry's mouth open. It wasn't really that hard considering how weak he was. Harry had no choice but to swallow the potion or choke. His perception of everything became even more hazy within moments, and the last thing he heard before the cold dark enveloped him was the sadistic laughter of three very disturbed men.

**A/N:**Yep, there you go. Anyway, drop a line and tell me what you think criticize, praise, whatever. You know how much reviews mean to people. Make somebody's life happier today.

**Review Responses: **

**Unseen Watcher:**I always have trouble with summaries. Thanks! **ApocSM: **Wow. What a compliment. Thanks! **HarrySlytherinson: **Looks like Harry's heading for some dangerous water. And yep, I agree with you. DAMN THE BASTARDS! **zzlostdreamerzz: **Thanks! **Hair Brush User: **I hope you get crackin' on your story too! **:winks: Localfreak: **THANK YOU! I appreciate your recognition of what I'm trying to accomplice. **Wolflady: **Here ya go! **Dens Serpentis: **Thanks! **momocolady: **Thanks! **Dragon Sword Master: **heh heh heh. You ain't seen nuthin yet! **The Magic Bringer: **Err, not to quick anymore I guess. sorry. And it'll be within the next three chappies or so. Maybe sooner. **Writh: **Thanks! **Grayswandir: **Thanks! Wait and find out! **kagomepotter: **Thanks!

**ALRIGHT, THIS IS THE REVISED VERSION OF CHAPTER TWO. PLEASE REVIEW!**


	4. All Your Fault

**A/N: **Okay people, just bear with me. I'm sorry for the late update, but my life has been uber hectic lately. I just didn't have the time, but here's the next chapter!

**NOTE! The story has gone under some revision. For example, chapter 2 (not including prologue) is longer and better than before. The other chapters have minor changes. Revision has also included a TITLE CHANGE!**

**I'D REREAD CHAPTER TWO ONCE AGAIN PEOPLE!**

_Last Time_

Avery said nothing as he forced Harry's mouth open. It wasn't really that hard considering how weak he was. Harry had no choice but to swallow the potion or choke. His perception of everything became even more hazy within moments, and the last thing he heard before the cold dark enveloped him was the sadistic laughter of three very disturbed men.

_**Yesterlife**_

**Chapter Three**

"It was your fault, you know."

Silence. The man shifted in the shadows.

"Why did you kill me?"

He could hear the words. It was as if the words were whispered right in his ears. He heard the words, but pain bleared his senses. He knew that the voice sounded familiar, but he couldn't match it with neither a name nor face.

He felt an ache, nothing like his physical ailments, but something else entirely different and much more painful. Had he killed someone? He could barely remember which way was up right now, but that voice . . . it filled him both with elation and unimaginable grief at the same time.

Who was it? He couldn't think. He didn't want to.

With great effort Harry opened his eyes. His vision was blurred yet he still had on his glasses. He blinked, and everything came into focus. It was still dark. He mustn't have been out for very long.

He tried to lift himself up by his arms, but his leaden limbs would not cooperate. He fell back to the floor with a dull thud and a groan, breathing hard. He couldn't see if he was alone or not.

The moon must have been covered by clouds as it's light was missing. Maybe he had just imagined the voice, or maybe he just had one too many pain curses. Harry closed his eyes and pressed his cheek to the cool stones of the dungeon floor. The coldness felt good against his flushed face. He was burning up, even though earlier he had been freezing. Maybe he was getting sick.

"Did my death make you happy?"

His eyes opened wide in fear. Did who's death make him happy? How can anyone's, besides Voldemort's of course, death make him happy? Wait! Voldemort! The memories came crashing back.

He had been captured, tortured, and the last thing he remembered was swallowing something foul -- the potion! His elation at remembering quickly deflated when he realized his predicament and simultaneously recognized the voice as it spoke again.

"I loved you once, as if you were my own son. But it wasn't enough for you, was it? I spent twelve years of my life in hell because of you. I stayed in England because of you. I DIED BECAUSE OF YOU!"

With a sob, Harry lifted himself from the ground and stumbled to the corner, curling into himself as his nightmare began.

"YOU SELFISH LITTLE BOY! EVERYONE YOU TOUCH IS CURSED WITH DEATH! EVERYONE YOU CARE ABOUT SUFFERS BECAUSE OF YOU! HOW CAN YOU LIVE WITH YOURSELF!"

"Noooo," gasped Harry, "Please, no, I didn't do anything! I'm sorry! No, no, I swear I didn't kill anyone. Please stop! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Please, please, please . . ."

Harry's sobs were loud and uncontrollable, but nothing could drown out Sirius's voice. Nothing could stop the pain.

But then his voice stopped. And Harry's tears subsided. Cautiously, he looked up to see why the accusations had ceased. What he saw nearly made his heart stop.

"Oh Harry," a petit red head spoke wistfully. "How did you become such a monster?"

The man, you could have passed for Harry's taller twin, shook his head sadly. "It wasn't our fault Lily. He's just a bad seed. All family's have them crop up now and again. I'm sorry he killed us before we could have had a better child."

"No," whispered Harry. His eyes were bright with new tears. "Mum, Dad, please."

"How could such a thing come from my body!" Lily cried as she buried her head into James's shoulder. He glared at Harry with such hatred. Harry flinched back as if he had been physically struck.

"How dare you carelessly throw away our sacrifice. How dare you. You are worthless in my eyes. I refuse to call you my son. As far as I'm concerned, the Potter line ended with me."

Harry closed his eyes, fresh tears streaming down his face. He sobbed into his hands, refusing to look at his parents.

"Harry?"

Harry continued to cry in anguish, refusing to face the next ghost.

"Harry, why did you make me do it?"

"I DIDN'T MAKE YOU DO ANYTHING! LEAVE ME ALONE!" screamed Harry, his eyes screwed shut and his hands fisted in his ears.

"You intentionally lead me to my death. You forced me to take the portkey. It's your fault my mother cries for me each night. It's your fault my father thinks of suicide. It's your fault my spirit cannot find peace. It's your fault."

"NO! LEAVE ME ALONE!"

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU SCREAMING FOR FREAK?"

Harry had no trouble discerning his next ghost. He looked up from the floor to see the huge silhouette of his uncle against the moon's light.

"YOU UNGREATFUL LITTLE WRETCH! HOW DARE YOU SCREAM IN MY PRESENCE, WEARING THE VERY SAME CLOTHES WE GAVE YOU, WITH THE FOOD WE GAVE YOU IN YOUR STOMACH! HOW DARE YOU SCREAM ANT ME WHEN IT'S YOUR FAULT THAT MY FAMILY AND I ARE DEAD!"

Harry just shook his head in denial. No, it wasn't his fault. It was Voldemort's fault! It was all Voldemort's fault! Voldemort was the monster who killed his parents! He killed Sirius! And Cedric! And the Dursleys! Why were the ghosts blaming him? He wasn't the one to blame . . . or was he?

"I am so very disappointed in you Harry."

His head jerked up so fast it was a wonder he didn't give himself whiplash, for there, in all his purple robed glory, was the Headmaster himself, Albus Dumbledore.

"Professor! Please help me!" Harry cried. He was too dazed to realize that this Dumbledore would do anything but help him.

"I am sorry Harry, but in every person's life, one must learn to accept the responsibilities and consequences of one's actions."

Harry was speechless, but he managed to croak out a, "What?"

Dumbledore smiled, although there was no warmth in that smile. There were no twinkling eyes assuring him that all was well. No, this Dumbledore looked upon him as he had on the fake Alastor Moody. Harry was nothing more than vermin to the Headmaster.

"Harry, it's time for you to pay for the murders you have committed. It's time to repent. Your life for theirs, a fair enough trade."

Harry shook his head in denial. What was Dumbledore talking about? Harry scrubbed his eyes with his bloodied sleeve and replaced his dirty glasses.

"I don't understand," Harry whispered in despair.

"Harry, you must take your own life to gain the forgiveness of Sirius, your parents, Cedric, the Dursleys, and all those affected by your selfish deeds. It is the only way you could ever gain their forgiveness and the only way to be happy once again."

_**Hogwarts, Five Hours Prior**_

Headmaster Albus Dumbledore was exhausted as it had been an extremely long day. There had been piles upon piles of paperwork to do, which was one of the few things that Albus detested. A couple of Order members who had been out doing fieldwork reported in, which ended up adding more paperwork to the piles. But the most exhausting of all events was Fudge's weekly visit. Up to his office came the pompous man with his lime green bowler, demanding any new information Albus had on Voldemort, and generally doing a good job of annoying the headmaster. Albus was about to the point where all he wanted to do was spit the lemon drop out of his mouth and make the minister choke on it..

Ever since the return of Voldemort was recognized by the Ministry in the past month, Fudge had taken an aggressive approach to the apprehension of known and suspected Death Eaters, doubled Auror recruits, and more rigorous training programs were introduced to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Not that this was a bad thing of course, but it was all happening just a little too late in the game. It was very apparent that Minister Fudge was trying to cover up his ass as fast as possible to try and stay in office. And although his changes were welcomed, the public still hadn't forgotten about his earlier discredit of the Headmaster and the Boy Who Lived.

Of course, Albus thought ruefully, The public had conveniently forgotten that they had treated them both with just as much hostility as the Ministry had. The Daily Prophet had once again began to sing Harry's praises, blaming the Ministry for slandering Harry's good name.

The funny thing was that the Daily Prophet was the ones that had been doing the slandering right along with Fudge.

So this was why Albus had retired to bed early. A fire was blazing merrily on the far wall, a cup of hot chocolate steamed slightly from his side table, and a good sized book on the History of the Hogwart's Founders was nestled comfortably in his lap.

He sighed as he reached for his hot chocolate mug. This is what he had been missing when Voldemort was gone. He had missed the peace.

A sudden blaring noise caused the Headmaster to drop his hot chocolate right onto his book and in his lap.

"Damnit!"

He grabbed his wand from his bedside table and waved it over the mess. Instantly, he and his book were dry again. The blaring noise continued, and it was then that Albus realized what exactly the alarm meant.

"Oh no Harry!"

_**4 Privet Drive - twenty minutes after alarm**_

The whole of the Order apparated to the end of Privet drive. It was easy enough for them to find Harry's house since it was the only one on the street aflame. Death Eaters could be seen standing in the street in front of the house, jeering and shooting curses.

With a collective roar, the Order members rushed into battle, wands drawn and curses upon their lips. The Death Eaters came at them with just as much fury. Beams of light shot through the air, and many men on both sides fell, some dead, some luckier.

Dumbledore was battling Bellatrix. He shot a stunning curse at her, which she easily dodged, and countered with a cutting curse, which he in turn dodged. She sneered at Dumbledore, raised her wand to the sky, and shouted_, "MORDESMORDE!"_

A green skull with a protruding snake appeared over the burning house. One Death Eater, who sounded suspiciously like Lucius Malfoy, shouted, "DEATH EATERS! RETREAT!"

A sound of many pops signified the Death Eaters departure. Dumbledore sighed wearily as he took in their losses. Mundungus Fletcher was luckily the only casualty from the Order, although many more were injured. Dumbledore roughly tugged on his beard, a habit that had never left him. The Aurors would be here in minutes. It would be best to wait for them. And although Albus didn't like to admit it, he felt a small bit of anger towards his fallen comrade. Fletcher had been the one on duty tonight.

Tonks came up beside him. "Sir, Kingsly and I are going to go see if the Death Eaters got to Mrs. Figg."

Dumbledore waved his hand in an off manner. "Go on."

Tonks nodded. She looked as if she wanted to say something, but thought better of it. She gave her former headmaster a pat on the shoulder and then turned away.

Dumbledore turned to look at the flaming house and felt sick. Harry had been in that house. He turned to see Remus on his knees, tears streaming down his soot-smeared face.

Albus shook his head, a lone tear falling into his beard. "Oh Harry, I'm so sorry I failed you child," he whispered to the flames.

A chilled laughter reached his ears from down the street, and then an agonized scream rang out through the night. Remus ran towards the scream, but his speed was impeded by the leg injury he had received earlier in the battle.

"HARRY!"

The Order members chased after the werewolf, leaving the injured behind. Running, Dumbledore could barely make out the figures through the smoke, but he did catch the last words cackled by what sounded like Bellatrix Lestrange.

"-- world Potter. It's the last time you'll ever be seeing it."

They disappeared, presumably by a portkey, just twenty feet from where the Order had been.

"NO!" Remus fell to the ground, his leg finally unable to support him. "HARRY!"

**A/N: **Well, there you are. We should be seeing some past action either next chapter or the one after that. Once again, sorry for such the long wait, and yes, I know, the chapter wasn't as long as usually. Sorry.

**Reviews: Thank you all for your encouraging reviews. They got me kick started again! I'll have to write responses later today, alas, school awaits.**


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